Uncultivated land, barren. The ledger of a soul. Blissfully broken and surrounded by naive sunlight. The kind of rays that bring forth rainbow light, the kaleidoscopic hopeful kind. The brightness unfolds amongst misery, the unknown sleepless days ahead. The beauty of the road, the trip, the rise as the darkness fall.
Each ray of pink bliss kissing the day as the new dawn rises. Insomnia never far behind the purple sky, higher and brighter with every flame. Lost, trying to unfold and unshackle, to be beyond the small emotionless shrub-like state of being. The shortfall, the weakness, the lonely circles of darkness.
The golden kisses of false promise. A devil in sheeps skin, the alure that the cold would fade and the sun would kiss where the hole meets the point and the point becomd the answer to all confusing. He was lost, surrounded by many yet alone. Misunderstood.
He smiles with his mouth but curses with his eyes, a tournament soul. He was lost while in the light. No one saw his calls, he was brave, he was fearless, he was a fucking mess, he was…Heath Ledger.
By Ithiel Brinkman
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That moment you think back on everything and realise why you never trusted anyone in the first place. ￼￼￼￼🖕🖕🖕🖕 ain’t nobody got my back, you think I don’t know, but I do. I listen silently, watching and reflecting on how dumb yo asses look!
#Ithielbrinkman #throughhopecamestrength #empirerise1 @empirerise1 🙏✌
Sitting on a curb by the roadside, hugging onto scared knees. She cries solent tears, but no else sees. She looks up to the lamp post, the only light to guide the way, suddenly something catches her attention, it’s the stars that glow for days. A flicker of hope ignights within, what else may be out there? The stars began dancing, filling the sky in glittery delight. Beyond the dark sky, surely there must be more for something so perfect has got to be adored.
So, she got up from the curb and dusted off her knees, she had made it her mission to search beyond our galaxy. One day she would fly, to a world beyond our own. In search for that glowing beauty and make it her own.
#Ithielbrinkman #throughhopecamestrength #empirerise #empirerise1 @empirerise1 🙏✌
He stood there, utterly afraid yet seemingly completely bold. Beneath the golden robe once lavished with phoenix feathers now weathered with ash, he hunched over the rails, as if that was the last thing holding him on this planet. Many passed him by, never stopping. Always in a hurry, never wondering where he needed to be.
I watched from a distance but unlike most and just like him, I too was hunched over- in the metaphorical state. My whole life I felt like I was walking the complete opposite direction to everyone else, in a league of my own, to the rhythm no one could hear. Why was he there? Who was this heavenly forsaken man?
As if the floor beneath me had given way I fell to my knees and grasped my ears! At first I thought it was a train, but somehow my eyes met his and magic happened! I heard what sounded like the gods and angels calling me. He had the smile of a saint and a face like the gods. Hair as white as snow and eyes that roared like the ocean. They were colours not from this world. To stare into them, meant you could feel his soul; his burden, his love, his loss. They were pure and kind but tainted with the pain of a thousand worlds before him. Those eyes had seen the unworldly. Why do I feel like those eyes had just chosen me? The last thing I remember before waking where the words “To be separate from the norm”.
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I can now understand why Vincent Van Gogh decided one ear was enough for the insidious, monotonous rubbish that our ears are enslaved to on a daily basis. We continue to be poisoned by the rules and riddles of society’s imperfectly beautiful lies. The silent whispers that echo like the haunting creaking of an old sorely forgotten but much loved house.
We are scared of the unknown. The “different” often pushing us to create an issue of some sort, because then of course if it is an “issue”- we can fix it, right? I have come to learn, well, when I say “come to learn” I actually mean to say “I bring forth light” on this subject. I am not unfamiliar to the taunting of bratty kids or superficial adults. Much like the age old guess of which came first, the chicken or the egg. Go figure, who’s taunts came first? You would be unnervingly surprised. Those who whisper, I hear you loud and clear, everyone can. You are but a broken pandemonium, on repeat like a record shunned from artistic brilliance! Stop searching my sagacious mind for answers to questions beyond your understanding. Not all riddles have yet been solved.
Don’t lend your ear to gossip, as my mother says. Hold your tongue. Don’t lose an ear for the sake of running a whispering campaign. Instead stand up for what is right, believe in what is different and Van Gogh hear the beauty around you!
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